Still is Sitting, Still is Sitting
by LadyRavena
Summary: Read and review: Severus might have paid too high a price for 'doing his duty' ...or has he? Part 3 of the Lost Lenore series
1. Default Chapter

Part three of the Lost Lenore Series.

Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please

Read parts one (Surcease of Sorrow) and two (A Single White Rose) BEFORE reading this story. They are short (maybe 4 pages at most) but they set the stage for this story!!!!!!

Thank you for all the reviews, they are what drives us ever onward.

Oh, and I don't make any money, no copyright intended, etc. PORTLINGS are my creation though, and have not been mixed up with port keys!!!!!!!! If you send me a review saying I messed them up, I will find where you live and bury you in golden snitches!!!!!!!!!!!

And Now…..

****

Still is sitting, still is sitting…


	2. 2

Dumbledore's spy had taken one vicious beating after another and frankly had had enough of the whole business. _Why didn't they just sic Potter at him, add the Longbottom nemesis for effect and the war? Sure, they would utterly destroy one another, but such a price wasn't that bad was it? One boy kills one dark lord. Equal trade._

Apparently not. They wanted their precious Potter to live through the war. _Probably to bother the next generation of good descent overlords with an overtaste of death and destruction._

Severus Snape shook his head at his own train of thought. Such thoughts were not proper for a turn back good pet or an evil Death Eater who wouldn't die on command. He pushed the topic away for consideration at a later time and went back to cleaning the wounds the last round had inflicted.

__

Of course, he sneered at himself, _if I hadn't dropped my wand like some first year Gryffindor when they hit me with the Cruciatus curse, I wouldn't be here…wherever here is. _ They had, after filling their personal fun quotients, hauled him quite a distance before finding a suitably wet ditch to dump him in and, for seasoning and spice, toss his wand**_s_** in with him. 

His attention went to the small pile of wood, feather and faithful service that was quietly sparking to itself. Mr. Ollivander would not be pleased. That was the fourth one in as many months. Wands were never meant, physically or finally, to be disposable after x number of uses. There were some wizards who never needed to replace their wands at all. Hermits, no doubt.

Snape removed one rather large splitter from his ankle, and tossed it in the small campfire in front of him. The flames spit up, lighting the clearing he settled in to reveal, for a moment, a pair of glowing eyes in the darkness. When he looked back, they were gone.

__

Climatic, aren't we? Eyes glimpsed only for a moment, his heart stood still and all that nonsense. But he had held his breath, to be perfectly honest. 

__

Just how many times did they curse me, anyway?


	3. 3

The eyes narrowed the longer they watched the human by the fire. The smell of blood was almost overpowering, reminding him that his last rat had been 17 hours ago. But he had been sent out to watch this time, to make sure that Severus could start to heal before revealing himself.

Proud arrogant Slytherin! Wouldn't take help even if he was half dead, which by the look of those wounds, it wasn't far off a guess. After checking the area twice and once more to gathers his nerves, the eyes shimmered and rose up to where they stopped, staring into the fire. Eyes that were still haunted watched the flames lick the air.

Coming forward, he knelt beside the sleeping potion master. Taking a burrowed wand from his pocket, the kneeling man put out the fire, gathered up the broken wand and took one last look around. "You're not going to like me," he murmured as he cast a minor sleeping charm. A search of his pockets produced a long thin chain which he hung around Severus' neck.

"Fare journeys" Sirius muttered as he let go of the chain, watching as the other faded away. The wizard at rhe other end of the portling would apparate it back to him in a moment, so he could follow. This would be done over a dozen times over the night, to throw of any chance of pursuers. Portlings were a pain in the neck.

But were untraced by the ministry. Such were the trials of a hardened criminal.


	4. 4

The first thing Severus saw when he awoke was the last thing he wanted to see. "Sirius Black!" he sneered … well, tried to sneer. It actually came out more of a breath.

His temper was stroked higher by the smile on Black's face. "Well, well, the dead come forth again to spread joy to the dearly living." A hand stopped the rest of the witty remark.

Dumbledore settled on the edge of the four poster bed that Snape was lying in. "Children," he abolished gently. "How do you feel, Severus?"

Good question. "Nothing, Headmaster, nothing at all." He felt slightly light-headed as well as not being able to feel the blankets on top of him, or the pillow under his head.

The old man, however, thought it normal, this lack of feeling. "You still have some of the potion in you, then. I want you to try to go back to sleep, let it wear off." His gaze sharpened. "Naturally, Severus, not forced."

Severus tried to sneer again, but sneered took more energy than they had a right too. He felt sleep crash over him, the only feeling he could sense. One thought surfaced before it too was pulled under.

How bad I am hurt?

*****

Yes, I know they're short, but I work best a short. If they get too long, I lose the plot. 

Although, I'm not sure this has a plot. It has a plot–ee! Does that count?


	5. 5

Dumbledore sat down wearily at the library reading table. No books were there at the moment, something Sirius doubted would last. "It is as we feared. Total randomized nerve failure, most likely from the shock accumulated from so many forays. It was-"

"I know the lecture, Mr. Black," Dumbledore cut in. "Who do you think asked him to go back this time?"

Sirius crouched in front of the headmaster. "We all take risks. Severus was doing what he could. Don't take that away from him."

Dumbledore looked closely at the crouching man. "You've changed, Sirius. Perhaps for the better. The eight year old seems to be gone."

Sirius sniffed. "Oh, he's not gone. He's just locked up in a room he hasn't figured out how to open…yet. What I don't understand," he continued on a more serious note, "is how he managed to walk away form this, settle a campfire, clean his wounds, then seize up."

Dumbledore stood and walked over to the nearest bookcase, pulling one volume down after another. "Severus is a man was a high opinion of duty and his place in the scheme of things."

Sirius barked a laugh. "In other words, he's a true Slytherin, too proud to slither off and die like the rest of us. Not his smartest move, of course. That would have been to stay put and wait for one of us to come and find him. He knew he was being watched over."

Albus smiled, turning back to the other. "Would your Gryffindor pride let you merely sit and wait, instead of doing for yourself?" At the other's expression, he raised a hand. "I somehow doubted you would, and I know Severus too well to expect him to. Speaking of him, how did you bring our potion's master here? You certainly didn't Apparate with him."

Black gave a sarcastic bow. "I haven't yet degraded in mind that far yet, despite everyone's prayers. I used a portling."

"Ah yes. A non-traceable means of going across long distances. Who did the Apparating?"

Portlings were simple, everyday objects that needed to be Apparated on a person (such as in a pocket), then programmed, then sent back to bring the second person to the first. It was used mainly for families with kids, but less legal methods could be done. Unfortunately, it did take longer, being on person at a time. A simple charm, _localtus proxiami_, was all that was needed, along with someone to do the Apparating.

"Remus did, though I'm surprised that he has a license, being a werewolf." Sirius took the pile the other had made and placed it on the table. Titles such as _Magical Ailments_, _Overloaded Curses_, and _The Unforgivable Curses: A Theoretical Study_ leapt out at him. However, when the professor spoke, they were driven away. 

"Oh, he doesn't." A pause, then, "I don't think he's even been trained. He learns a great deal from books. Very clever young man."

Sirius choked. "He – that little – I'll" he sputtered off.

Albus hook his head, chuckling. "Start looking through that pile, would you, when you're done stammering." The smile vanished. "We need to find the reversal of the condition."

****

(A. Note) Happy? It's a long chapter. 


	6. 6

Darkness.

__

Close your eyes, Sevi, the light is bright.

Memories.

__

Lenore, why did you leave me?

Darkness. A speck of light in a corner. A candle, Severus could see. Someone had moved him, his head lay at an angle. There was a single glowing ember in the hearth, yet the room was warm. Darkness out one window, the waxing moon not so very high. Books were sprawled over the desks, nightstands and floor. One book had been left open, its pages rustling in the faint breeze from a crack in the window. The title of the page leapt out at him.

Nerve relay failure 

His eyes scanned down, picking out the lay-wizard's terms. _Often due to prolong exposure…Cruciatus curse a factor…failure of brain commands relayed to muscles via the nerves…therapy largely sought…often permanent to some degree…_

…often permanent…

…permanent…

He cut off the moan that threatened to escape him, squeezing his eyes shut. Damn Voldemort! _Well_, a voice said quietly, _he wasn't all to blame. But why, oh why make it permanent? Was his service not good enough once to warrant death at the Dark Lord's hands?_

No. His betrayal was too great to simply kill off. His death would serve no purpose. His suffering would.

He hadn't heard anyone enter, but someone's hand brushed across his forehead. "Severus?"

He didn't move, hoping that they would presume that he still slept and leave him be. The hand came back, tapping his cheeks gently. "Come on, Severus. I know you're awake. You can fool Mother with that routine, but not me."

His eyes flew open and he gasped. Sitting on the edge of the bed, long black hair spilling down past her waist was Lenore Snape. She looked as she had when she had graduated Hogwarts when he was 8 years old. She was just as he remembered her.

But she was dead.

Dead, and yet, here. He could hear her breathing, feel her hand on his face where it rested, felt her weight pressing down on the mattress.

He _felt…_

"You'll feel better in the morning, Sevi, trust Lenore on that. The doctors say you'll heal. Though climbing that roof had been a very stupid thing. Mother was nearly hysterical."

__

The roof? Oh, that roof. Eight year Snapes were not known for their calm, clear-headedness. Child taunts, dares, and name calling (_was I ever that young?_) landed him first on the 3 story roof, then quickly into his mother's herb garden. He'd shocked his system quite a bit, and hadn't been able to move for days. Lenore had stayed with him til he could get up. 

"You need to sleep," she was saying softly. "Close your eyes, Sevi. Let me sing you to sleep."

Some part of him rebelled. He was a grown man who did not need a lullaby. But his eyes were already closed, his ears catching the words. He felt sleep crash over him once more, pulling him into its sweet black folds.


	7. 7

Lenore continued to sing, watching Severus sleep. Only when she was sure that he slept did she stand, smoothing the blankets with hands that were slowly losing their solid touch.

"Ah, little rose."

She turned, smiling. "Professor Dumbledore. I was just looking in on him."

"Of course. How…"

She smiled. Curtsying, she said, "Goodnight, sir."

"Will he see you again?"

she faded from view, the sound of a bird's wings breaking the silence. Then, as the room became still once more, a whispered line of a lullaby came floating…

__

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting…

*****

Author's note:

I wrote Severus very sarcastic for a reason. He's not in a good mood, and he just seems the type to resort to sarcasm rather than with anger. Anger probably got him in trouble.

Sarcasm also hides the person behind the words.

Make of that what you will.

Lady Ravena


End file.
